


My, What a View You Have (All the Better to Woo You With)

by Museohmuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, I know nothing about lighthouses, M/M, Pack Bonding, Pack Mom Stiles, Pining, Post season 3a, low scale road trip, the only thing missing from this is skinny dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Museohmuse/pseuds/Museohmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles slapped at Derek's hand, uncurling his fingers' hold - Derek hoped Stiles didn't hear his sharp inhale - and putting the keys back on the hook. 'My treat,' he said with a light smile. 'And no, I don't have a location in mind!' he crowed as he walked out the door. 'Where would be the fun in that?'"</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles steps up to save the pack from imminent self-destruction, once again, and Derek takes a late night trip that heals old wounds and makes the future seem a little brighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My, What a View You Have (All the Better to Woo You With)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swing Set in December (swing_set13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/gifts).



> So this is for Jen, who has been asking for Sterek fics with lighthouses. I don't know if this is what she was looking for, but there you go. 
> 
> Thanks to Mari (tumblr user thewolfstamer) for looking this over for me! (If you spot any more errors, that's totally on me.)
> 
> Also, I am not ashamed of my pun in the summary. If you want to fight me on it, I'll see you on tumblr!
> 
> Thanks, and enjoy!

Derek knew nothing about lighthouses. Well, he knew that Cora was obsessed with them, and in the spring time she would raise hell in the household to get their parents to take her to the site so she could watch the boats break away into the ocean, colorful flags whipping in the wind. And Cora was a brat, a brat with a tendency to irritate their sensitive hearing, so she always got what she wanted. 

So every spring, the Hale pack would drive out to the light house and watch the boats and the kids playing in the water (Derek was an unwilling participant, there were many pictures featuring a frowning boy with dark hair and tiny claws sticking out of his fingers) until the sky grew dark and the lighthouse turned on. Derek recalled its bright beam sweeping across the dark sea in a way that kept Cora mesmerized until she fell asleep in her the arms of her current keeper. 

But the lighthouse shut down when Derek entered high school, and by then Cora entered that stage where she was embarrassed to be seen with her family unless they were doing something for her, so their pack never ventured by the site. And then the fire happened and everything went to hell and the thought of the lighthouse never entered Derek's mind. Still, when Derek drove by the outskirts of town fetching one thing or another to take down whatever pain-in-the-ass his pack was facing, he couldn't help but search out that towering structure almost obscured in darkness. 

Derek was sitting in his loft one night, trying to focus on the book Boyd had thrust in his hand after telling him it was a "good read, and you need something good in your life" (the kindest insult Derek had ever received), when he heard the sound of a key unlocking his door. 

Derek forced his heart to stay calm, knowing that his instincts would have warned him if it was a threat. When he focused, the sound of familiar sneakers walking across his floors and a thrumming heartbeat had Derek at ease. Stiles eventually poking his head into the living room didn't shock Derek at all - unfortunately, nor did Stiles entering like he owned the place, flopping himself onto the couch facing Derek and kicking his feet onto the coffee table. 

"If you want to keep your feet, I suggest you take them off my table," Derek said, smacking the book on Stiles' dirty shoes. 

"I helped you pick out this table, you ungrateful werewolf," Stiles replied easily, though he took his feet off the table all the same. "Besides," Stiles continued, "I've been looking to give my dad a good excuse to buy me some new kicks."

Derek rolled his eyes like Stiles was goading him to, not responding how he wouldn't mind buying Stiles new kicks if it would get him to swing by his place more often. "Is there any reason you've invited yourself here?" he asked, the faint distaste in his voice not nearly as genuine as it should be. 

"Keep talking like that and I'll think that I need to knock before I enter," Stiles drawled, leaning forward to pick up the book Derek discarded and flipping through it. 

"That would be a start," Derek said. "The next step would be to swallow the key and act like this place didn't exist." 

"Harsh words, dude," Stiles said. "But if you must know, I was sent here on a mission."

Derek learned forward, delving into his senses to see if Stiles' casual pose was hiding any anxiety. "Did Deaton send you here? What do you need?"

"Jesus, Derek, it's not all doom and gloom, you know that, right?" 

"We just took out a cluster of changelings last week," Derek replied drily. That was no easy feat either: trying to wrangle up a group of life-sucking demonic kids while separating them from the real kids was hell. 

After a beat of silence, no doubt to allow for remembering those horrible couple days, Stiles said, "Now. It's not all doom and gloom now." Derek snorted, the irony clear in Stiles' voice. 

"So what's this mission, then?" Derek said, reclining back in his couch. This was his couch, seeing as he fought tooth and nail against Lydia's commands; he knew that giving her the reigns over the interior decorating of his loft was a horrible idea, but Stiles was so adamant that he acquiesced. But no matter what design or whatever Lydia was pushing, the couch was cheap and damn comfortable, so it stayed. Stiles took to calling it his throne, only inciting Isaac and Erica to start rolling with the Game of Thrones puns that Derek pretended he didn't understand. 

"Well, we're about due for a total implosion within the pack, so I figured we should start looking for sites to take the kids to stretch their legs and get their aggressions out in a play-date sort of way." 

Derek blinked, trying to take in everything Stiles just said. It didn't work. "What?" 

"Oh, come on," Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes so hard Derek was surprised his eyeballs didn't detach. "Isaac is too pansy to jump Erica's bones because Boyd's got the hots for her but Erica's being rude and giving them both green lights to proceed to her - anyway. And then Jackson's doing this weird posturing thing to get Lydia's attention even when he clearly already has it, so Lydia is naturally giving him the cold shoulder. Not to mention Scott is ready to be hung from the rafters if he approaches Allison again, and I'm not even sure if Chris will do it, or Allison herself. On top of all that, 98% of them are screwed to hell in their classes, are suffering with the full moon and baddies every other week, and shitty relationships or non-relationships." 

Derek took several long minutes to digest the drama that had apparently been brewing under his nose. It was impossible to ignore their heightened emotions, the sharpness of their youth, and their capricious attitudes, but Derek never wanted to know the depths of their inane problems, hoping they would solve themselves. He wanted to be their Alpha, their leader; not their mother. Derek's own mother had found the holy trinity of Alpha, Mother, and Friend, but Derek was twenty-three. He was still supposed to be in the selfish stages of his life, not catering to the needs of a pack of teenagers; and he wasn't genetically fit to be a caretaker or the leader. This didn't excuse his piss-poor behavior, but it sure as hell didn't help. 

"You still there, Wolfman?" Stiles' voice brought Derek back to the present, and he shook off the usual tendrils of doubt and anxiety surrounding his position in the pack. 

"So, what, you thought it was a good idea to go vacation searching at 11:30 at night?" 

"Hey, this mission requires the same lack of sleep as taking down any of the monsters we've faced!" Derek huffed, forcing himself not to reprimand Stiles for his flippant attitude - it would probably only add to the pack drama, knowing Stiles.

"I'm sure," was all Derek said. 

"So, let's go!" Stiles leaped to his feet, jostling Derek with a pointed shove at his ankles. Derek bared his teeth at Stiles, but he only grinned back. The memories of Stiles' heart racing in fear when Derek so much as looked at him were fleeting in Derek's mind, but treasured. 

"Do you have any locations in mind?" Derek asked as he grabbed his keys off the hook in the hallway. 

Stiles slapped at Derek's hand, uncurling his fingers' hold - Derek hoped Stiles didn't hear his sharp inhale - and putting the keys back on the hook. "My treat," he said with a light smile. "And no, I don't have a location in mind!" he crowed as he walked out the door. "Where would be the fun in that?" 

\--

Stiles was pounding the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing from the radio - something about "closing your eyes" with a heavy drum beat - and grinning maniacally as he drove them aimlessly on the back roads of the town. 

"Derek, you're more than welcome to toss in your own input to where we could go," Stiles said eventually, breaking the companionable silence between them. And it was - companionable, that is. While silence had a rare presence between them, the moments Stiles deigned to keep his mouth shut were never uncomfortable, which struck a chord in Derek. 

"The bowling alley?" Derek suggested. That was one of the only places left in Beacon Hills that hadn't been tainted by the presence of some supernatural beast or another. 

"I take that claim back," Stiles replied somberly. 

"What's wrong with bowling?" 

"Where's your sense of _adventure_ , come on!" Stiles whined. There were no other cars on the road, not at this hour, so Stiles stopped right in the middle of the road, staring Derek down. "You can't think of anywhere the pack could be rowdy and weird without being confined in a building where they could easily fuck shit up?" 

"You're the one who dragged me out here, _you_ come up with something if you don't approve of my choices!" Something about Stiles made Derek revert to his fifteen year old self, always irritable when people weren't immediately on his side and readily putting blame on someone else. Derek knew there would be adverse side effects from willingly fraternizing with teenagers, but turning into one of them had to be the worst. 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow, a damning sign that he'd been hanging around the pack - _his_ pack - for too long. "Alright, don't get your tail in a knot," he said, easing the car back into drive. "Lucky for you, I've got something in mind." 

"Somehow, that doesn't reassure me." Derek realized that he might not always win the battle, but he'd be damned if he didn't have the last word. Stiles didn't say anything, just sent Derek an amused smirk and turned up the volume on the radio. 

The night was cool, the scent of pollen an underlying constant as spring began to make itself known. Derek tried not to think about how if the fire hadn't have happened, he and his family would be gearing up for the pack retreat - the setting changed every three years, so this time, it would have been with his family in Vancouver. Derek wondered how his old pack (and God, did it hurt to even think that) would have interacted with his new one: if Laura would have hated Erica on the spot, only to find solace in her a mere week later; if Scott and his brother Gale would have spent their time playing against each other in lacrosse; if anything would have happened between Cora and Stiles. 

Because Derek saw that happening, before she left to South America for good, something Derek was still coming to terms with. How easily they bantered, how wide Stiles' grins had been when Cora said something particularly biting, how their bodies pulled closer the more they hung out. Derek had tried to tell himself that the shadow over his relief that his baby sister was adjusting to the pack was just his wariness over another inter-pack relationship, but he was well aware that was lying to himself. 

Derek wasn't sure when Stiles became a fixation in his mind; it might have been when Stiles fought with a group of trolls who wanted to tear Derek limb from limb and won by the skin of his teeth, or when Stiles was kidnapped and Derek thought the worst because he couldn't feel him in the pack bond. No matter when it happened, Stiles was without a doubt the most important person in the pack to Derek, and he had no way of rejecting it. It was just like Stiles to enter uninvited into Derek's mind and rip the walls down before reconstructing the place to his liking, until it was a place inhabited by DerekandStiles. 

"This seems cool," Stiles said, his voice distant as Derek fought himself out of his thoughts. When he looked towards where Stiles' attention was, his fingers clenched. A noise died in the back of his throat, completely involuntary. 

"You alright, big guy?" Stiles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

Derek couldn't trust his voice, so he nodded, taking in the lighthouse as they drove around it. It seemed so much bigger than Derek remembered, even though he was bigger than last time he had been there, standing tall on a cliff surrounded by a distinct lack of buildings that met its height. Derek could hear the rush of waves lapping at the sand, of seagulls calling to each other. A strange homesickness burned through Derek's chest, and he breathed in and out slowly, determined to not let the past get to him. 

"We don't have to go here." Stiles' voice was soft, hesitant. When Derek chanced a look at him, he almost wished he didn't see how the moonlight made Stiles' skin glow, made his eyes look so dark that the pupils were nonexistent. "Beacon Hills isn't so small that we couldn't try another place. We could definitely scope out the bowling alley, I'm sure you don't have that many qualms against breaking and entering" - 

"No," Derek cut in. "No, this is fine." Stiles looked like he believed the exact opposite, but he nodded and pulled his jeep into a parking lot close to the sand.

"Let's investigate," Stiles said, not waiting for Derek as he scrambled out of the jeep. Derek followed, breathing in the salty air, slightly bogged by the smell of the people who populated the beach hours before. 

"This is really nice," Stiles said, walking towards the water. He kicked off his shoes before entering, taking a few seconds to dig his toes into sand, calling to Derek over his shoulder, "Dude, you should try this! Feels fantastic!"

Derek had been enjoying the view of Stiles tilting his neck back and allowing the moonlight to capture the thriving veins. Derek quelled the growl rumbling in his throat, the instinct to _mark_ and _claim_ , and joined Stiles, taking his shoes off to enjoy the grains underfoot. 

"What happened if you inhaled sand?" Stiles asked suddenly. 

"I'd be just as pissed as any human, Stiles." 

"Does sand even have a particular smell?" 

"I don't know, and I really don't care to find out," Derek replied. Stiles heaved a put upon sigh, dropping to plant his butt in the sand. "You're going to get sand in your car now," Derek said, eyes glued to Stiles' wiry arms as they stretched in front of him to fall on his raised knees. 

"I'll just get Boyd to do it, he still owes me a solid," Stiles replied easily. Derek really didn't want to know, so he didn't ask. Stiles pat the ground next to him a few moments after, just when the sound of the waves was starting to lull Derek into a state of utter contentment. Derek eyed the sand distastefully, but knew he couldn't deny Stiles anything, not for long, anyhow. 

Stiles sighed heavily when Derek sat down next to him, knocking their shoulders together easily. "It's a shame the moon's the only light source here," he murmured, as if his voice couldn't surpass the noise of the waves. 

"The lighthouse hasn't been used in years," Derek said after a beat. He couldn't believe he was saying this. "When I came here with my family, we used to stay here until it came on. It was kind of like seeing fireworks, y'know? Just this bright light in the sky. It shut everyone up, even though there was no noise." Derek snapped his mouth shut, not sure what else there was to say. His experiences with the lighthouse were the faint memories of childhood, and he never revisited those with anyone in his pack, not even Cora. 

Derek glanced at Stiles, who was looking at his hands with a kind of focus Derek wasn't sure he'd like directed at him. "My mom," Stiles began, his voice hoarse. He cleared it minutely before continuing, "My mom always talked about the lighthouse. She said this was where she would come to collect her thoughts. After she got sick, she couldn't really afford that luxury, so I would go out and take pictures and videos for her and bring them back." He stopped, chuckling shortly, and a little wetly. "I even bottled up some sand and water for her to have by her bedside. I told her I couldn't bottle the light from the lighthouse, but she used to say the light from my smile was enough." 

"She was a poet." Derek was surprised the words came out of his mouth, and Stiles' shocked face probably reflected his own. But Stiles' expression broke so a slight smile made itself known. 

"Yeah, she was all about deep feelings and using your words," he said fondly. 

"My mom was the same," Derek said, suddenly desperate for someone to know about all that he lost, for someone to know his family as he knew them. "She would always go on these poetic tirades about our family history or stories about how werewolves came to be. My siblings made it a game to see who would be able to stay awake during her rants, and whoever fell asleep last won." 

"I'll bet you were always kicking ass at that, being Mr. Constant Vigilance," Stiles said teasingly, his eyes almost painful to look at as the moonlight made them shine, heightening the lighter tones so his eyes were like two earth-bound stars. God, Derek was so fucking gone on this kid. 

"Not when I was eleven," Derek huffed, looking out at the black ocean. "Cora was devilishly competitive; she'd usually get one of the young boys, usually Caleb, to poke her awake when she started nodding off." 

Stiles laughed, a big belly laugh that had him arching back. Derek was just enraptured, didn't even pretend that he wasn't watching. "I don't doubt that for a second," he chortled, shaking his head. 

Silence lapsed between them again, and Derek was about to suggest they leave when Stiles said, "I want to see that view." 

"View," he echoed, looking around. The land was relatively flat, aside from the hill on which the lighthouse resided; unless Stiles meant climbing on top of his jeep, which Derek wasn't sure the frame could handle. 

"The lighthouse, let's go!" Stiles climbed to his feet, swinging his hand pointedly in Derek's face. Derek didn't need help getting up, and he knew Stiles knew that, but he accepted the hand, hyper aware of the dry, strong grasp. 

"It'll probably be locked," Derek pointed out as he followed Stiles to the lighthouse. Stiles stopped in his tracks and pinned Derek with an incredulous look. 

"You call yourself a werewolf?" he said.

"I call myself an upstanding member of society," Derek returned stiffly. 

Stiles' full body laugh had Derek's lips twitching, but he fought to keep his frown. "Shut up, man," Stiles gasped, "and be a Big Bad Wolf for once." 

"For once?" Derek repeated, pushing past Stiles once they reached the door. Just as Derek suspected, it was padlocked shut. 

"I thought you didn't want the reputation as a Big Bad anymore." Stiles said. "You've already undergone metamorphosis, and now you're a Cuddlewolf!" Derek looked at Stiles, flashing his red eyes and letting his fangs drop as he bared his teeth. 

Stiles snorted, saying, "Huff and puff all you want, but not at me." He gestured grandly at the padlock. 

Derek rolled his eyes as he unsheathed his claws with more grandeur than necessary. "I'll blow your house down if you're not careful," he muttered.

"Please," Stiles snorted, "I'd rather you blow -" He cut himself off abruptly, cheeks tinged red. Derek could guess what Stiles was about to say, and struggled to not respond. He made quick work of the padlock, the chains dropping to the pavement with a loud thud. 

Derek couldn't help the smug grin the came across his face, and Stiles noticed it, huffing, "Yeah, yeah, you're the Big Bad," as he pulled the door open and walked inside. 

\--

"Why are there so many _stairs_ , oh my _God_ ," Stiles groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

"You wanted to see the damn view," Derek grumbled. 

"But at what _cost_ ," Stiles whined, throwing himself against the bannister. 

"Your lack of physical health, apparently," Derek replied. 

"Hey!" Stiles barked. "I'm more than physically fit, thank you! Just 'cause I'm not bursting from the seams doesn't mean I'm not packing some more subtle weapons." 

"I wish I could say I can't believe you said that," Derek groaned. Derek knew that Stiles was in shape; he worked with the pack during the physical portions of their training, holding his own with his newfound skill with the staff. Just a couple flights ago, Stiles had pulled up the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his forehead and Derek saw a set of abs that made his brain short circuit. They might not have been _amazing_ , in perspective to the wolves (and Jackson's friend Danny), but seeing them on Stiles was like the mouthwatering cherry on top of a witty, loyal, irritating, brave, _beautiful_ cake. 

"Are we almost there?" Stiles whined before he slumped onto Derek's shoulder, making him stagger to compensate for the extra weight. "I think you should just carry me." 

"That's a one way ticket out of the window," Derek grumbled. But he let Stiles hang onto him for another flight, embracing the warm line Stiles created against his side, then playfully shoving him off at the top of the next flight, smirking when Stiles squawked, pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character to catch himself. 

Derek figured it took them a long twenty minutes to finally reach the top, probably thirty considering the number of times Stiles stopped to poke his head through the number of doors they passed. They all serviced the lighthouse, most entirely cleaned out. Derek had to make sure he was paying attention to Stiles, because when he got a twinkle in his eye, he was about to do something irreparably stupid. Stiles also talked the entire way, either complaining or making up bullshit facts about lighthouses. But when they reached the top, he shut up, circling around the space with a childlike wonder. 

"It's so _cool_ ," Stiles sighed, his voice echoing in the room. The glass panes were huge, encompassing the entire room so it was like there was a thin barrier separating them from the outside world. 

"The lantern room used to be Laura's favorite place," Derek heard himself murmur, approaching the huge, dusty lantern, unused for years now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles press himself against the glass, gazing at the view of the city. The separation of the beach from the city was almost startling, a sharp line from where the sprawling lights stopped abruptly to be overtaken by the inky waves. 

The moonlight created its own beacon in the room, almost unbearably bright in the room. Derek felt his bones shift minutely, responding instinctively to the strong beams. 

"Cool, there's a door!" Stiles cried, pulling open the door nearly invisible amongst the other glass-panes. The oppressive silence was broken by the immediate sound of waves crashing against each other. Stiles walked out, the light breeze pulling Derek towards him. 

Somehow being outside made the view more impressive; the beach seemed miles away, the ocean more calm, the city so distant it might as well have been in another state. Derek inhaled deeply, the freshness of the air almost heady. 

"We should totally bring them here," Stiles said, his face slacken with relaxation. "This is the best place to put some calm in the systems and make the fights more of a cuddle fest - which I totally know how much you guys love them." 

"It's good for the pack," Derek replied easily, the same answer he always gave when Stiles brought this up. "Physical attention reinforces the pack bonds." 

"Sounds like a thin excuse to get your cuddle on, if you ask me." 

"I didn't," Derek sighed. Stiles smirked sharply, making Derek continue with, "You could always join, you know." 

Stiles froze, turning against the rail to look at Derek. "What?" 

Fighting back his discomfort at the scrutiny, Derek said, "You're pack, too. The invitation to cuddle, or whatever, is open to you as well."

A bright smile split across Stiles' face. "You totally just said cuddle, and I'm never forgetting that." Derek opened his mouth to threaten him into silence, but Stiles cut him off. "Besides, I don't think this anyone would really benefit from cuddling with me. I'm all skin and bones and I tend to go crazy in my sleep."

"I wouldn't mind." Derek wasn't sure if he wanted to take what he said back or not. But Stiles looking at him with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed, made him want to say it again. 

"Dude," Stiles breathed. "We probably shouldn't bring the pack up here."

"What?" Derek asked, unbearably confused at the change in the subject. "Why?" 

"Cause I'm going to be bragging forever about how this is where we first kissed, and I don't think they'll want to see a reenactment when we get here."

Derek's heart skipped a beat before picking up double time. "Oh?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice even. "I'd say that we've earned it, when you think about inconsiderate everyone else has been." PDA was the number one problem Derek ignored whole-heartily. But Stiles was making a tempting offer. 

"Might as well catch up," Stiles said, pulling himself closer to Derek, his smile otherworldly in the best possible way. Derek hummed, reaching out to grip Stiles' waist, pulling him closer.

"Don't want to put them to shame with a lack luster attempt," Stiles continued softly, his eyes locked on Derek's lips. 

Derek's excuse for kissing Stiles was to effectively shut him up. If there were any other reasons, they were absolutely unknown to him. 

Stiles hummed happily as he pulled away, his lips full and pink, encouraging Derek to swoop back in for one more solid press against his lips. "You know what would make this better?" Stiles murmured against his lips. Derek broke away from him, unable to ignore the pull of Stiles' thrumming pulse and latched his mouth on his neck until he could feel his lips vibrating with the rhythm. Stiles' choked moan and his fingers gripping Derek's shoulders made Derek press closer until Stiles was pressed completely against the rail. 

"What?" Derek asked against Stiles' neck. 

"What?" Stiles echoed desperately, craning his neck further to give Derek better access. 

Derek chuckled lightly, pressing his lips soundly against Stiles' neck before backing off - much to Stiles' chagrin, from the sharp groan he released - and looking Stiles in the eye. "What would make this better?" he reminded Stiles. 

"You - I was going to say something stupid about lighting the lighthouse with our passion, but you _distracted_ me," Stiles gasped, his voice wrecked and _killing_ Derek. 

"Later, we can definitely do that later," Derek grumbled, not resisting the urge to pull Stiles against him again. 

Hearing Stiles' sighs mix with the sounds of the ocean under the moonlight made Derek realize his past and present were melding into a fresh, hopeful creation. If he listened close enough, he could hear the sounds of his family sharing another day at the lighthouse. 

Derek eventually led Stiles back inside when he noticed how Stiles was shivering slightly. He walked up to the massive lantern, and touched it softly, remembering how Laura was unable to pull her eyes away from it, and how Cora would be put to sleep by the light it produced. "From one pack to another," Derek murmured to himself. 

"What?" Stiles asked, his face soft and full of fondness. He reached out without hesitation to grip Derek's hand, tangling their fingers together, and Derek loved him more for it. 

Derek raised Stiles' hand to his face, kissing the knuckles softly and smiling softly at his soft exhale. "Home," was all Derek said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Any and all feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr under the username savethestiles. come cry to meet about all the fandoms in the world, but especially Teen Wolf!


End file.
